


I would trade tens and thousands of days (for a single of these)

by lockmyheart



Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: Angst, Canon Compliant, Episode Tag, Fluff, M/M, Season 3 Mickey Milkovich, Shameless s10e12, Time Travel, Weddings, shameless s3e06
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-14
Updated: 2020-02-14
Packaged: 2021-02-28 05:15:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,080
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22719778
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lockmyheart/pseuds/lockmyheart
Summary: Mickey falls asleep, and enters a weirdly vivid dream where he's marrying Ian.
Relationships: Ian Gallagher/Mickey Milkovich
Comments: 9
Kudos: 179





	I would trade tens and thousands of days (for a single of these)

**Author's Note:**

> So I banged this out in one sitting a couple days or so after the s10 finale, after not being able to get this thought out of my head since the wedding. Then the _day_ or two after I finish it, allyasavedtheday posts [a fic](https://archiveofourown.org/works/22562206) with the exact same damn premise, LMAO. (Read that too if you enjoyed this!) I decided to post mine anyway, as there's never too much of a good thing, right? I'm obsessed with the idea of younger versions of Ian and/or Mickey seeing what becomes of them.

Mickey doesn’t know how he got here; one moment he was in bed, drunk off his ass, trying to fall asleep, and the next he was standing in the middle of what looks like a wedding. He must’ve been closer to falling asleep than he’d realized, because now he was having an alcohol infused dream.

Mickey spins around, feeling oddly present in his own body. He’s heard of them, but he’s never had a lucid dream before. He’d have never guessed they feel like this; like he’s actually here, in this room, with all these people with actual faces around him. The people in Mickey’s dreams tend to be blurry and faceless. Still, Mickey can tell this is for sure a dream from the weird fog-like quality of the room, and the fact that everyone seems to be moving just a little bit slower than usual, like Mickey’s the only one moving at the correct speed.

Mickey watches, not quite knowing what to do, as the guests start finding their seats. It’s only then he looks towards the altar, and he almost falls to his knees.

Ian.

Oh fuck. That’s _Ian_.

A lump forms in his throat and he knows instantly what kind of dream this is going to be. His brain is punishing him, and now he must watch Ian marry someone else, because Ian had to watch _him_ marry someone else.

This isn’t a dream at all; it’s a nightmare.

Ian looks older. He looks like an adult, with a little bit of stubble and his hair combed back.

He’s hot. If Ian grows up like this in real life then Mickey’s going to miss out hard.

Now Mickey sees nothing in the room but Ian. He’s used to that.

While Ian stands up there, with Lip by his side, Mickey walks over. This is _his_ dream god damn it, and he can take control of it if he tries. It doesn’t have to turn into a nightmare if he’s lucid, right? He marches up to this older, sexier Ian, with all the confidence he can dig up.

Fuck, he’s even taller too. Mickey has to crane his neck to look up at him (why does he kind of like that?), but Ian’s not meeting his eyes. Mickey waves a hand in front of his face, but Ian doesn’t even twitch. When Mickey tries to touch him, his hand goes right through him, as if Ian’s not really there. Or as if _Mickey_ ’s not really there.

“Hey,” he says, but no one looks at him. Damn it. Turning this into a sex dream might prove to be a challenge.

He’s about to step this up and try to punch Ian in the face, when the music starts.

Everyone twists to the end of the aisle, and so does he.

A bucket of ice water runs down over him, at least that’s what it feels like when he lays eyes on an older version of himself walking up the aisle with… is that Sandy? He hasn’t seen her in a while. She looks older too, but as greasy as ever.

Hold the fucking horses. Ian’s marrying… him?

Mickey stumbles back, scared of getting too close. He can’t breathe. He looks at Ian, smiling at this strange and foreign adult Mickey. Ian’s smiling like he can’t believe he’s here. Smiling like he loves him. 

Mickey’s vision blurs so quickly he has to blink the tears away to be able to see. His chest and abdomen constrict with a sob he absolutely _refuses_ to let go of, so he presses his fist to his mouth.

This is worse than the nightmare he was expecting.

This is torture.

This is everything he wants and everything he can’t ever have. He’s never going to be allowed _this_.

Adult Mickey reaches Ian and they face the minister together with a synchronized nervous exhale.

Something completely nonsensical burns in Mickey’s chest then. Jealousy. He’s wildly jealous of this dream version of himself for marrying this dream version of Ian. For the way he’s smiling at him and the way he’s discreetly brushing his fingers over Ian’s hand as the minister speaks. For looking so open and happy, not caring that a hundred people are staring at them right now, taking pictures on their phones.

He loses it again when the vows start. When he hears his own voice speaking to Ian so softly like that, but still so sure of himself. When he hears Ian ( _Ian Ian Ian_ ) tell him he’ll love and cherish him until death do them part, he lets himself cry. This is his nightmare, who the fuck cares.

The unfairness of it all is the worst of it. Why can’t he have this? Why can’t he just be _normal_ and _have this_ without risking his fucking life for it? His thoughts bang around in his head, pound in his chest, and he wants to scream. This is not the life Mickey’s going to ever get, because Terry made him marry Svetlana and Ian’s had enough of him.

He’s fucking alone, and his waking life is a nightmare he can’t wake up from.

He can’t look when they kiss for the first time as husbands. It’s too much. He’s only kissed Ian a handful of times and now he’s never going to do it again.

But when he looks away, he catches the eye of none other than Ian. _His_ Ian. His heart stops for a beat before it picks up again in double the speed. This Ian’s looking straight at him, from the back of the room. He’s got tears running down his face too, but unlike Mickey, who’s downright having a hysterical panic attack, he seems calm. Ian’s eyes widen when he sees Mickey.

Mickey yells across the room, before he can think about it. “Don’t fucking leave me.”

Ian blinks. He’s heard him.

Mickey gulps in a breath and walks right through the older version of them, stomping towards the version of Ian he loves with all of his damaged heart. “Don’t fucking leave,” he says again, when they’re face to face.

And yeah, Ian can see him. He opens and closes his mouth several times before he manages to say anything. “Are you ever gonna give me that?” He points, but Mickey doesn’t turn, he doesn’t want to look anymore. He knows what Ian’s pointing at.

He shakes his head no.

Ian sighs. He steps back. He looks disappointed, but like he expected nothing less. “Then I’m sorry.”

“Fuck, Ian, _please_.” Mickey doesn’t beg, but his rules don’t count in dreams. And even if this won’t stop the real Ian from leaving, Mickey can’t let himself wake up without having tried. “I can’t - I fucking – I need you.”

Ian takes Mickey’s hand. It’s a gesture they’ve never done, and Mickey latches onto it, squeezes so hard it must hurt. “And I need more. I watched you marry _someone else_.” Ian’s eyes fill with tears that don’t fall. Mickey doesn’t bother trying to stop his own, and it makes Ian’s face soften a little. He wipes Mickey’s cheek his thumb. “It’s gonna hurt me too much to stay.”

“It’s hurting me that you’re leaving,” Mickey admits. He’s never admitted to anything hurting him ever.

Ian sniffs. “You’re never going to tell me that. You’re not going to tell me how you feel.”

Mickey drops his eyes to the ground. Ian means in real life, and he’s right. Mickey tried, but he couldn’t get the words out. “You know how I feel.”

“It’s not enough, Mickey.”

“Will you kiss me?” Mickey looks up through wet eye lashes. “Make it seem real.”

Ian smiles then. He’s so beautiful Mickey wants to punch a wall. “Yeah, c’mere.”

The kiss does feel real. Mickey feels every strand of Ian’s hair against his fingers, Ian’s tongue swiping against his, his own shuddering breaths as he tries to make out and cry at the same time. 

The kiss ends, and they rest their foreheads together. Ian smiles at him, bright and radiant. “Thank you,” he says quietly, to the sound of the crowd pushing aside the chairs behind them, presumably in preparation for an afterparty. “This has been one of the best dreams I’ve ever had, I hope I don’t forget it when I wake up.”

Mickey pulls away, raising an eyebrow. “Excuse you, this is my dream, asshole, and it’s a fucking nightmare!”

Ian laughs and kisses him again. “You look real good in white,” he says softly, holding Mickey’s face in a way Mickey would never let him get away with if he was awake. “When you get married someday, for real, to someone you love,” he puts a weighted emphasis on the word ‘love’ that makes Mickey want to deck him, “you should wear white.”

Mickey’s jaw trembles and he shakes his head, but he doesn’t say what he wants to say. _I only want this with you._ If Ian leaves him now, then Mickey’s going to be stuck in this situation with Svetlana forever, he just knows it. At least until Terry dies, and who knows when that will be. If he's real unlucky, like he always is, Terry’s going to live to a hundred. Svetlana and him will continue this heterosexual charade, have a couple of kids, and Mickey’s going to take his secret to his early grave when he can’t do it anymore.

Ian gives him one last gentle smile, caresses his face, then disappears in Mickey’s grasp with the smile still on his face. Mickey stares at the empty spot in the air before he turns around. The scene has shifted, the room has gotten darker around him and there’s a slow song playing. And there’s the grown-up Ian, taking his hand, slow dancing with him.

Mickey can’t take it. He squeezes his eyes shut. “Please, wake me the fuck up.”

* * *

Mickey wakes with a start. He’s drenched in sweat and his face feels strange, like he’s cried for hours. “Fuck,” he murmurs, falling back into the pillows. The nightmare gets hazier and hazier by the second. He presses his palms into his eyes and wills himself to forget.

Ian still leaves, because real life is a bitch.

* * *

Mickey’s certain it’s not normal to be this happy. He almost can’t contain himself as Ian cites his vows to him, with that lopsided smile and confident tone. Like he’s never actually had any doubts. Mickey believes his promises. Wholly and completely. Maybe that’s dumb, but Mickey’s always trusted Ian.

He lets Ian’s words sink in. Ian gives his hands a hard squeeze when they’re pronounced husband and husband. Holy shit. He laughs when Ian pulls him into an enthusiastic kiss to a roar of cheers. He’s so delirious it feels like an out of body experience.

“I’m having the weirdest déjà vu right now,” he murmurs, with a grin, as they press their foreheads together.

Ian’s smiling with his whole face. “Me too actually.”

They separate. Ian grabs Mickey’s hand and they walk back down the aisle, married as fuck. Ian throws their clasped hands in the air and it feels celebratory. Victorious. They made it. 

Later, when they dance, they’re both a little drunk (okay, Mickey’s very drunk), and they’re still swaying slowly even though there’s another dance track playing. Ian’s looking at him with sparkling eyes full of wonder and what Mickey now recognizes to be love. He knows he looks at Ian the same way.

“I never told you how beautiful you look today,” Ian says, eyes sweeping down his tuxedo-clad body.

Mickey snorts. “Yeah, you said I was, what, an ugly motherfucker?”

Ian laughs, slapping his shoulder. “Fuck you. You look so good in that thing.”

Mickey smiles, ducking his head. Now he’s fucking blushing. “Thanks.” He bites his lip, looking back up. “I think you told me to wear it once, in a dream.”

“Really?” Ian raises an eyebrow. “I’ve got good taste.”

Mickey tucks his face into his husband’s neck, a little unsteady on his feet. Soon there’s another slow song, and the gyrating bodies around them slow down and pair back up into twos. The world narrows down around them until it’s just the two of them and no one else matters. It’s just Mickey and Ian.

Mickey and his husband.

_This is as good as it ever gets_  
_This is my happy ever after_  
_This is my[best day yet](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=mJGt6pUlS6I)_

**Author's Note:**

> I always imagined Ian and Mickey slow dancing at their wedding to either Perfect (so imagine my out of body experience when it actually happened) or the song I used here.


End file.
